Meadows of Heaven
by Dantaron
Summary: Ashtarth ran away from the life of an Elemental Knight and wandering, found himself on the world of Weyard. Years later the other Elemental Knights have come to reclaim him - only to find him wedded to a woman from Lalivero: Sheba.
1. Meadows of Heaven

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Hey, everyone. This is a story I wrote a few years ago. It's pretty bad by my standards today, but I figured it might be worthwhile for some people.

**Meadows of Heaven**

He wrapped his arms around her, fingers weaving themselves into her long blond hair as she tilted her head back, green eyes closed. He kissed her pouted lips. She raised one delicate hand and twisted her fingers through his olive hair, his other arm tightly pressing in the small of her back, gathering her to him.

They shared a moment, breathing as one… and then released, hands trailing down the other's arms and fingers weaving together, as they lay back on the sandstone knoll and stared at the sky.

His gauzy robes rippled like the grass in the wind, matching perfectly with her's in the traditional Lalivero style. His thumb caressed the back of her hand, and as their heads turned, flame-orange eyes met with sly jade and shared a glance meant only for them – the silent understanding of the deeply in love.

"I love you, Sheba." The voice quiet, a scarce whisper, but caught by the wind and carried to her ear.

She smiled, and opening her mind to him, felt his essence reach out and mesh with hers. _I love you too, Ashtarth._

The wind swirled around them, approving caresses that stirred their hair gently.

He turned his head and stared up to the sky, where the flowers of heaven wafted gently, nodding from the tapestry above. His expression was pensive, finely sculpted bones and high cheekbones unmoving as stone as his eyelids drifted between open and shut.

"I once thought I was condemned to be the wanderer, cast out from each place I thought to call my home, the calls and curses of those I once loved driving me forth. I am older than I look, sweet Sheba. I never thought, in all my years, that I would truly find a place to call home. I followed wherever the winds lead me, my element flying me forward… for the wind never rests, and finds no solace." He held her eyes once more. "You taught me otherwise."

Sheba reached out with her free hand and silenced him with a caress, a finger lingering on his lips as she drew back. "Hush. We disciples of the wind don't need words… we just know," her lips tugged upwards in a playful smile. "I am twenty-five today, Ashtarth. Seven years from the day you first flew into my life."

She closed her eyes, and snuggled close to him, head resting on his chest, his arm wrapping around her. "Let me have this moment."

His smouldering eyes stared to the sky as he heaved a sigh of contentment.

Sheba's breathing beside him grew slow and rhythmic… and so he was cautious not to stir when he saw the blue light streak across the sky, nearer and brighter than the other stars. It inscribed a slow, lazy circle in the sky…

He felt a strange feeling in his heart. A not-joy, but yet a not-sadness… it was the resignation of inevitability.

He had known he would someday see them again… it was fated; as sure as the Angel still held the scales. The Knights would forever be drawn together, again and again, so long as the elements they governed held the universe together. They could sense each other, vaguely… it seemed now, they had finally found him.

He closed his eyes. Elemental Knight of the Wind… a being he had tried, many times, to leave behind. But always, like a shadow, it followed him, bearing with it countless burdens, the burdens of centuries.

Channeller, dragonmaester, shaman…

Tyrant, murderer, betrayer…

Slave of Sthertoth…

Slave of the Angel.

All these things he was, but never wanted to be. For the last seven years, he was simply Ashtarth the man… a controller of the wind from a far-off corner of Weyard, the Primaterra – the first world and base of the universe, from which all other worlds grew.

He did not want to leave, he knew, thinking of Sheba at his side.

He kissed the top of his wife's head against his chest, and fell into a dreamless sleep – and for a while, was free from fear.

**~Any way the wind blows~**

The _arc-en-ciel _sailed the currents of space, engines shut off, tracing gradual circles above the world below them – a world they thought existed only in legend.

Baelfael, Elemental Knight of Fire, rubbed his glasses and adjusted them carefully, blowing out the breath he didn't know he had held in. "The Primaterra, origin of the universe… the first world, held in the grasp of the aether itself… around the axis of its centre, all existence rotates. The base of everything, from which the universe steadily grows as per the Yggdrassil theory, the crest of the universe a frenzy of constant starbirth… and it all stems from here."

Behemos, Elemental Knight of Ice, glanced down at his friend for a moment. He didn't betray it, but he sometimes wanted to hook Bael a good one. Ever since Moira's death decades ago, the man was not the same – science had become his only solace, and he had become colder than ever. "I bet they don't even have Motorhead down there, the poor uncivilized bastards."

The Purifying Light laughed girlishly. "As if you were the epitome of culture yourself, Behemos!" She coughed and made an attempt to deepen her voice to imitate the Lord of the Frozen Wastes. "All I need is a few kegs of beer, the girl of the night, and the latest UWF wrestling match." She paused reflectively. "You know, that doesn't sound that bad. Invite me next time, eh Bemmy?"

Regulus, Prince of Shadows, coughed. "Zoniha."

Zhael, Mistress of the Storm, laughed at her friend's mollified expression. "I swear, Regulus, it amazes me every time to hear Zoniha listen to a man! Don't tell me you've been whipped, Zo?"

Zo chuckled, and snagged the chocolate chip cookie Reg was about it eat from his hand. "As if! I'm still the one controlling all the sweets in the house, and thus little Reggy is in the palm of my hand."

Regulus simply glanced upwards at her. "I can withhold sex for weeks. I highly doubt you have the same control." The cookie plopped in his hand, and he took a very satisfied bite. "Thank you."

Molok sat in silence in the back of the cockpit, brooding, as was his wont. The Elemental Knight of Earth stood as a statue, unmoving – a being far older than life should have dictated, even by their standards, and wracked by the ghosts of the past.

He sat in silence, beard arrayed out on the stiff leather of his fighting clothing. He was a large man, heavily muscled despite his physical old age. He was Called in his sunset years, stolen from the sweet embrace of death where he could have joined the love of his life. For the Elemental Knights were doomed to immortality, to live in servitude to the Angel until the end of time.

His head turned imperceptibly as his gaze fell in Zhael. "Do you not have someone to attend to, young one?"

Zhael nodded. "I haven't forgotten, Molok. I will never forget, so long as my heart beats. And that," she said, getting up, "is a very long time."

She walked out of the cockpit and down the hall, the lilting strains of a song rising from her throat.

"We will be landing tonight," Baelfael said, his eyes flickering over the console. "Rest and eat while you can in familiarity. Myself, I go to sleep. Goodbye."

As Baelfael stood from his console and walked in silence from the room, Molok's eyes followed him.

… and it seemed, to the Raging Earth, that Baelfael seemed more and more like him with each passing day.

Zhael walked the metallic halls of the _arc-en-ciel_ alone, singing softly to herself, balancing a tray full of hot soup, crackers, and cider in her hands. She came to the door to her room, and pushed it open with her hip. "Sweetie? Are you awake?"

A muffled groan was her response.

She smiled in the dark, and with a thought ran electricity through the lights, giving the room an affable, warm light.

Shiro rose from the bed across the room with effort, a smile breaking over his lined face. The man once known as Bomberman was now very old – his hair now white from age, longer now, his face heavily lined from centuries of care. Liverspots and veins ran riot on his arms – being a kshar'wa, disciple of Flame, had granted him long life, but could not save him from Time's cruel scythe.

"Hello, my little china doll," he said weakly as she came over and sat down on the bed beside him, smiling.

"I brought you some soup, Shiro," she said, setting the tray down beside him. "It's warm, and it's good for you. You need to eat."

"Arigato," he said with a playful smile, as with a shaking hand he lifted a spoonful to his mouth.

Her delicate yet strong hands wrapped around his and helped him, guiding the spoon to his mouth. When he swallowed, she followed up with a light kiss and sat back, still holding his hand. "How are you feeling?"

He grimaced. "I've been better." He took a sip of the cider, pale eyes on her as he sat it down. "Thank you, Zhael," he said, after a pause. "I don't know what I would do without you… and why you put up with a useless old man like me," the faintest taste of bitterness coloured his voice.

She ran a hand through his hair; cupping one lined cheek, and kissed him. "Because I love you, you dolt. You're still the same man I fell in love with, all those centuries ago."

He raised himself off the bed and kissed her, his hand resting on her hip. "And I'm glad of it… although," he said gently. "We… don't have much time left."

Her breath hissed sharply as she breathed through gritted teeth. "Don't say things like that…"

He looked at her intently, and despite the state of his body, his eyes still held the same white fire they did years ago. "There's no use in denying it… we knew this was going to happen, someday, when we first married." He covered her trembling hand with his. "I don't want to die on this ship, Zhael. If it has to come… let it be in our home. In the country… with the smell of apple-blossoms in the air, and the mist of the lake."

She held his eyes for a moment, then bowed her head. She brought her other hand up and covered his again. "… okay." She said, and kissed him. "Got room for another under there?"

Smiling, he moved over. Zhael slipped in, and arms wrapped around each other, they fell asleep.

Elsewhere, Baelfael walked alone through his room, flitting like a moth from one computer to the other, sketching calculations. Numbers scrolled by on the screen, but what values they revealed, only Baelfael knew.

And, in the centre of the lab, a homunculus was nearing completion… already, it seemed human. Its 'skin' was plasticity and yet real, its eyes hidden behind closed lids… a waterfall of blue hair fell down its back, and clothing swaddled its quasi-female figure.

Precise calculations… data must be extremely exact. Every nuance, neurons locked in the exact state upon death… but how to capture that every elusive element?

"What exactly is the thing we call the human soul?" Baelfael murmured.

His hand gently stroked the homunculus' cheek. "Moira, I swear: you will live again."

**~Any way the wind blows~**

It was a hot summer night beneath the star-spattered sky, the scents of liquor, sweat, and flowers spiralled far above the throbbing party. Beige-and-white streamers hung through the fledgling trees of Valerium, few older than ten years. A city beginning to rise as one of the great forces, awash now with vibrancy and vitality, song and dance. Hollowed-out nuts clinked against each other in the freshened breeze, hung from the streamers by netting, and the courtyard was downed with feathers from countless birds.

It was a Lalivertan wedding in another city, a merging of cultures that left each reveller dazzled. Candles burnt around the sidelines in Valean tradition, every so often incinerating a feather that the wind blew up and carried, burning, into the sky.

Mugs clinked and mingled with the sound of laughter and scuffing feet bubbled into the air as couples and friends, all quite drunk, moved on the packed earth of the dance floor.

Garet, looking uncomfortable in a formal tunic, danced gracefully with white-gowned Mia as strains of Piers' whispering syrinx filled the air. The Lumerian weaved through the crowd by himself, avoiding the dancing couples despite his eyes being closed as he poured his soul into his music… oblivious of the steadily-swelling ranks of dreamy-eyed girls following behind him.

Isaac, Jenna, and Felix sat around a table, talking quietly and smiling. It was Sheba's wedding, after all, and her twenty-fifth birthday. They were all older now, and enjoying peaceful lives. The world seemed to be idyllic, at peace, so much more than it had when they had adventured years before. Little Michigan sat wrapped around Jenna's leg, auburn hair gleaming and eyes wide, as he looked around at his surroundings. She smiled and ruffled his hair, smoothing her sunset-coloured dress as the maid of honour, and Felix as the best man.

They were watching Ivan and Feizhi twirl to a private waltz when Karst seized Felix in a headlock from behind, affectionately giving him a noogie as she smirked. Felix, laughing, turned and swept his arms beneath her, lifting her into the air and kissing her pale lips for a moment before carrying off the protesting Proxian. Isaac and Jenna shared an amused glance… before a pair of immensely burly arms swept down and lifted Jenna into the air, placing Michigan on his shoulder and kissing Jenna fiercely. Now fairly drunk, Agatio gave Isaac a jaunty wave, and carried off the laughing Jenna, as well.

Isaac suddenly found himself alone at the table, and chuckled to himself as he drained his glass, his eyes rising to the skies.

… he lowered his glass slowly, azure eyes unmoving from the ebony sky… and after a few moments, he swallowed his wine. The sound was audible.

From the meadows of the sky, one of Luna's flowers was moving… but not just swiftly falling as they did when Luna plucked them. Before his dumbfounded eyes, this blue-hued flower inscribed circles in the sky before it began descending, growing largely and largely… until he could see clearly that it was not a star at all – but rather, a strange thing altogether different.

Its head was like a snake's, round and somehow flat, etched with red lines in strange geometric patterns. A blue glow burned from the aft of the vessel, and wide flipper-like wings protruded from the sides, thick and fat, with what looked like hooks raked forward from beneath. Fanned out behind these wings were sharp-looking spires placed horizontally, shifting colours as he watched. They were bright when the thing first appeared, and began to dim as it grew closer to them.

The grass and trees blew back from the ground beneath as it set down, just outside the city limits. And that's when Isaac became aware of just how large it was – its 'wings' spanned from the mountains on one side of the valley to the other. Bathing the night in a rainbow glow, claw-like mounts unfolded from its belly and it lay, resting – and then all the light ceased.

The Valeans drew, dreamlike, closer to the colossus. Like a stream of ants, they poured from the gates of Vale and gathered in front of the immense thing, dwarfed before it.

"What is it? Is it alive?" Mia asked softly, her voice a whisper.

"It doesn't look like anything we've ever seen before," Ivan said, shaking his head. "It could be manmade, but there aren't any seams by which we can see how it was put together…"

As he spoke, a crack split in an upside-down Y in its belly, light shining from within… and stunned, they watched in amazement as a door slowly appeared, a ramp of energy descending to the ground. And then, from within the light, figures appeared and slowly strode down the path. There was the crunch of feet on stones, and then they stood, facing each other.

Garet arched one eyebrow. "What the shit is this? Who are you?"

"I believe the more pressing question is, what are you, that can descend from the meadows of heaven?" Ivan asked, violet eyes sparking suspiciously beneath his long blond hair. His fingers twined with Feizhi's, who stared at them with an unequally unshakable gaze.

Baelfael stepped forward, unconcerned at how out-of-place his appearance was here. He wore a white dress shirt of finely-spun fibres, and thin glasses sat on his nose, brushed by the tips of his crown of red-orange hair, which fell in three bangs and swept down in his back. "The 'meadows of heaven', as you know them, are in fact not meadows at all. As you are judged to be a third-level civilization, progressing to written and spoken words and then scientific ideals, you would not know the difference from your mere myth," his voice was cold, condescending. "The white pinpoints are actually stars much like your sun, and we come from-"

"Man, what a dump," Behemos remarked, crossing his arms over his chest. He wore denim jeans and a black studded-leather jacket over a wifebeater, his hair wild and untameably blue, seeming to defy gravity as it arced in front of his face and swept down his back. "I bet they don't even have toilet paper here, much less UWF fighting."

He glanced over at his red-haired friend, his expression not changing. He stared at his slender back, waiting for Bael to turn around and glare at him for interrupting him in the middle of a Scientific Explanation, as he usually did.

Baelfael did not move.

Zoniha rolled her eyes, and leaning forward and flashing some cleavage to the Weyardians, giggled. "Don't mind Behemos, he's a bit of a tough guy, or so he thinks. The nerdy one is Baelfael, and this one's Zoniha! The old geezer is Molok, and captain sexy should be showing up anytime," Zo glanced over her shoulder at the ship behind them.

Molok stood impassive, charcoal eyes regarding the Weyardians emotionlessly.

Ever the hero, Isaac swallowed his hesitations and stepped forward, sword not drawn but his hand at the ready. "I am Isaac Oreme. What do you want?"

"We're just looking for an old friend," a musical female voice rang from inside the vessel. The strangers glanced back and wordlessly parted for the new trio – an ancient man, limbs frail and face heavily lined, supported under one arm by a beautiful pink-haired woman and under the other by a silent black-haired youth, his face chiselled and somehow cold.

The old man glanced upwards and like a shock, they felt his eyes lock with theirs. They were as pale as water reflecting the clouds, smoke from the burning of a funeral pyre, the wind made material. They were heavy with a lifetime of hardship and experience, borne under the weight of all they had seen – but sparkled, crystalline, with remembered joys, and present love.

"We're looking for a guy named Ashtarth?" the old man said with a bittersweet smile. "If you've seen him, tell him Shiro Yogeki's looking for him."

"And Zhael would like to have a word with him for ditching us," the pink-haired lady said, lightning crackling from her free hand.

The Adepts started. "You are a Jupiter Adept?" Ivan exclaimed, his eyes alight. "But you came from the skies. Could it be? Are you Anemosian?"

Zhael just looked at him. "… what are you talking about?"

Baelfael then, spoke up. "Allow me to explain, Zhael. This is Weyard, the primal world – here, unlike the rest of the universe, it is commonplace to be able to wield the same powers we do – the elements. Some have called the primal world the home world of the gods' children. Namely, our children," he added afterwards, in a quieter voice for only the Knights to hear. "There could be no other explanation for a world of people who can control the elements. It is likely that this Weyardian believes you to be a Jupiter Adept, which in according to ancient Alchemy titles you as a wielder of lightning."

"Wait," Mia spoke up, confused. "You said Ashtarth is one of your friends. Is he… like you?"

Regulus, the dark-haired man supporting Shiro's other arm, spoke up. "Ashtarth is the Elemental Knight of Wind, the seventh of we who control the elements. He has lived for centuries, and will live forever. As will all of we."

There was complete silence as this revelation sank into the Weyardians, and in the pause, Shiro's muttered words to Regulus were heard. "Not all of us."

"Thing is, Ashtarth's married right now," Karst said firmly, striding into the group with Felix at his side. "This is his wedding."

The Knights all startled visibly – but as soon as Felix stepped into view, Regulus' pupils dilated.

"Get back!" he barked, and the others were surprised to hear urgency in his voice. "Bearer of the Tomegathericon!"

But it was too late.


	2. Pure Evil

**~Any way the wind blows~**

A dark laugh echoed around them, rising from beneath the stones, flying on the wind, and twisting into their ears.

_Regulus, Prince of Shadows. What a pleasant surprise – it has been too long since you have graced us lesser demons with your presence,_ the voice, disembodied, was deep, cruel, and mocking. _I have spent thousands of years bound to guard a power under your command, my Prince. And forgotten, losing all sense of time, I have had much time to think._

Felix was suddenly jerked into the air, suspended by a bulging, twisting lump in his back pocket. He rose ten feet in the air, face grim, as he tried to reach for his sword and cut the book from him – for he knew that was the pocket he kept the Book of Death in.

And I think that you are not worthy to be my master – I shall destroy you and seize the Stone of Shadows for myself!

Karst nodded at Agatio, and drawing her scythe, ran at him. The bulky Proxian linked his hands together and formed a platform for her to land on, and then, spinning, hurled her at Felix.

Her scythe cut through the button holding his pocket shut, and as the fragments fell to the ground so did Felix, landing on his feet like a cat. Immediately, his gaze swivelled to the air.

The Tomegathericon, glowing with a sickly light, hung suspended in the air above them. It opened of its own accord, pages rippling too fast for the eye to follow. It seemed to find what it was looking for, and locked into place, hovering open like a pair of hands beseeching the skies.

What happened next, none of them would forget.

Reality seemed to blur for a moment as a black and violet insignia burst from the book and expanded – and all seeing it, knew it for a summoning circle.

The next instant, _he_ arrived.

Massive and as thick as a tree trunk, armoured in violet edged with white and golden, an arm roared out of the book and, fingers like sausages, braced itself on an invisible barrier.

Dullahan burst, whole and complete, from the Tomegathericon.

He hung suspended in the air, as all beneath gaped in sheer disbelief. With a dark laugh and a shower of sparks, he drew his sword. Lightning wrapped the length of it and projected a hundred feet further – and _Formina Sage_ fell like a guillotine towards Zhael, Regulus, and Shiro.

"Support Shiro," Zhael said quickly, giving the Bomberman a peck on the cheek before slipping from under his arm and leaping into the air.

Lightning swirled around her as she tapped the Elemental Stone of Lighting – armour coating her body and a eyepiece over one eye. She flung her arm outwards and a staff of lightning formed there, which she swung and locked with _Formina Sage_.

Time seemed to stop as they locked, dead even, then Zhael glanced upwards, and lightning danced in her eyes. "You picked the wrong day to emerge from your sleep, demon."

She rolled off of his blade and lashed across his chest. Sparks flew, but his other hand was already flying – slamming into Zhael and sending her spiralling through the air. She slammed into the ramp of the ship, and grimaced.

_You are _all_ dead,_ Dullahan vowed, and the sky seemed to darken, the flowers of heaven going out one by one. Darkness gathered around his fist, as the power of _True Collide _manifested.

But a hail of psynergies slammed into his back, sending him stumbling forward. The roar of a Epicentre filled the air as Dullahan turned with deliberate slowness and beheld the Adepts. They stood arrayed, weapons drawn, and a blend of fear and determination in their eyes.

Felix brushed his hair out of his eyes and raised Acheron's Grief. "We destroyed you once, Dullahan. We will again." He nodded to Isaac, and raised his arm. Already they were slipping back into the mentality of the battlefield, and the mental hum of psynergy filled their minds as their Djinni roused themselves. They felt intricately connected to each other, able to sense each other's thoughts and wishes at a moment. Their Djinni hovered at the edge of their consciousness, and Dullahan still towered, seemingly unfazed before them.

Felix saw the strange newcomers over Dullahan's shoulder, and nodded once. Then turning his attention back to Dullahan, he dropped his arm. "Go."

Baelfael stood, watching the battle with a disinterested eye. The mortals danced circles around Dullahan, forces of all the elements crashing on his armour. Streaks of blue, red, violet and yellow flew instantaneously back and forth between their bodies as they exchanged their little elemental spirits. It was an interesting scientific phenomenon, really. They appeared to form a symbiotic relationship with the low-level spirits, increasing their own power many times over. And exchanging them to alter their own body's elemental chemistry, they granted new abilities.

He watched the battle rage, sparks searing off the monster's armour as the tiny-by-comparison blades sent showers of fire into the air. They fought with innate, wordless cohesion, he noted, the blue-haired girl healing her fallen ally and the burly redhead blocking an attack on her back. The blonde Jupiter warrior dodged a bladed swing, leapt onto the demon's arm and onto his shoulder and then over, bombarding the armoured being with lightning.

A slight smile tugged at Baelfael's features. Perhaps, beyond all reason or scientific expectation, a handful of mortals will be able to vanquish a demon.

A desolate fog hung over Dullahan's mind like a funeral pall as he silently brooded, his body reacting under battle-honed instinct to fight. He spun his sword and slashed, was blocked by the blond and the brunet swordsmen, by Sol and Acheron's blades, then with his other hand flung them away like gnats.

Too many children, far too young to know what this world is. He grabbed a searing Plasma bolt in his hand and ground it to dust, turned his back to a Prism, and sheathing his sword in an instant slammed his open palms over Sol and Acheron, who were trying to sneak back and attack. He leaned forward, wrapped steel fingers around them and lifted them into the air.

_Thousands of years in dark isolation… can you imagine it? Can you feel my pain?_ He flung them through the air into the charging Mars Adept and Lumerian, the fog deepening. His demonic vision, not colours like normal mortals but rather auras, began to take on hues of devilust – bright, fierce colours, slashed by darker black.

He leapt high into the air with the clanking of metal plates, watching the web of Djinni exchange below him, leaping high beyond to where their psynergies could not reach.

_Can you imagine the pain of being bound, for thousands of years, to guard a power that is the very antithesis of your being? Can you imagine, faithfully taking the order from your master and serving well, only to be betrayed and forgotten, left to rot! Can you imagine being destroyed at the last and then sealed in a new prison by a herd of _mortals_?_

His hands clapped together before him, and a brilliance of rainbow shone at their impact.

You cannot… but soon, you will.

_**Djinn Storm!**_

The Knights shielded their eyes against the sudden flare of spectral light, a whirlpool of sheer energy that enveloped the Weyardians.

"Man, we didn't even get to party together," Behemos said, shaking his head.

And then as suddenly as it came, the storm died away – and to their surprise, they saw the heroes still standing, totally unhurt… but something seemed wrong. Their wounds all suddenly sprung anew, seeming more drastic, and fear was palpable in their eyes.

Above, Dullahan raised his hand coldly. _Boatsman of the river Styx, come forth and carry these souls to hell._

He extended a finger and began drawing glyph in the air, glimmering darkness tracing ancient runes.

Agatio and Karst took a running leap and, with the draconian strength that only the Proxians possess, leaped high into the air to meet Dullahan.

His finger moved in a blur, leaving sigils, characters, ancient script and hieroglyphs.

Karst raised her blade, preparing Death Scythe.

Agatio's body tensed as he prepared Stun Muscle.

They reached out to shatter his glyph, Mars psynergy curling around their weapons.

Dullahan's finger made the last stroke and completed, the glyph glowed.

Agatio and Karst were blasted downwards in a rippling pool of darkness as a red-cloaked, skeletal figure appeared above, hovering above the heroes. He waved his hand, and suddenly everything turned dark.

The world was a small shell, ending just ten feet around them in a seething, rippling mass of bleak. The sun was blotted out, and all was in darkness. They felt their body's energy begin to drain, stolen away by Charon's power. They felt the life begin to drain out of them… and strangely enough, it showed no signs of abating, unlike their previous battle with Dullahan.

"It's… different this time," Felix said quietly.

"Like Mars it is," Jenna growled, helping her husband to his feet and punching the bulky Proxian in the arm. "We've gotten through this before okay, there's no reason to say it'll be any different."

But her hand dropped and held Agatio's, his callused hand gripping back just as tightly. His normally fiery eyes were a little dim, but he was as unphased as ever. He put his other hand in the small of her back and pulling her in, kissing her roughly.

Felix rolled his eyes, but paused when he felt a tap on his back.

"Hey." The voice said casually behind him and there stood Karst, hair glorious despite the dirt recently ground into it, her scythe tightly gripped. She looked a little roughened from her encounter, but a half-smile tugged at her lips. "You about ready to make things interesting, lover?" she pushed him lightly on the shoulder. "What? You thought we were giving up?"

She turned around and nodded to Agatio. "You all let your Djinni rest a little more… we'll try to bust out of here."

"Charon, here we come!" she yelled, dress fluttering as fire wrapped around her and erupted from her hands, multiple explosions slamming against the Lunatic barrier as she cast_Supernova_.

Agatio set Jenna down despite her pout, and raised his hand to the sky. A roaring dragon of flame erupted from his fist and tore through the barrier – which faltered, scored, but did not fall.

And then suddenly, Zoniha stood in their midst… and snapped one feminine arm in the air, extending a whip of light in a flash. She finished the work that Agatio and Karst began, and shattered the darkness like a cracked eggshell. She glanced down back at them from behind rose-coloured eyes, lilac hair seeming to shimmer with power. "Sorry I'm late… you know how men are. You have to prod them to do anything." Her eyes rolled upwards.

There was no sign of Charon – and Dullahan was moving swiftly in the air, pursued by a figure in dark violet armour, a black visor over his eyes. Black gravity claws swiped at Dullahan as he blocked with _Formina Sage_, and the smaller figure disappeared as an explosion of subzero ice broke across Dullahan's chest, frost spreading instantly across his armour and hindering his movement. They turned to the side and saw at the ramp of the ship a mammoth man, ice coating his body together with plates of steel, and what looked like a pleated dress hanging from his waist.

"Regulus," Zoniha said, tossing her hand upwards, then to the side. "Behemos." She grinned. "And don't worry your pretty little heads… we're the Elemental Knights. We won't let anything happen to you." And so saying she flew in the air, light bursting from her body as golden gloves and boots formed, the light washing away her casual clothing and replacing it with a revealing suit of gold armour.

Isaac whirled around, as if suddenly realizing something. "Where are the children?"

Horrified expressions broke their faces until Ivan stepped forward. "Feizhi's taking care of them… I didn't want them to feel too unsafe."

Felix pulled away from his embrace with Karst, keeping a hand loose around her waist. His eyes glanced upwards, then back down. "It seems as if we're being given a period of grace," he rumbled, then grinned when he saw how uneasy Ivan was. "Ivan, if you want to go make sure Feizhi's safe, feel free."

Ivan laughed sheepishly. "I wouldn't mind," he said, tossing a careless salute over his shoulder as he turned and sped into the poignant darkness that was Vale, waiting with bated breath to see the demon battle their heroes… with help from some strange visitors.

Felix turned slowly and meaningful back to the others, and the earth seemed to respond glowingly to his unheard request for power. "Everyone's Djinni set and ready?"

He looked up, and smiled. "Show them, then."

Regulus was blocking Dullahan's blade, watching the bladed tips of the demon's 'cape', as well. Somewhere during the battle, the monster had abandoned pretension and its cape had become a pair of daemon wings, keeping it aloft – two more weapons to account for.

He twisted past a wingtip slice when suddenly, Dullahan was consumed in a storm of fire, ice, and stone. Blades of energy and dragons of fire pierced the demon's body and suddenly it was gone, leaving his armour scorched and blistered.

Regulus smiled, his gravity claws twirling together now to form a long, vicious spike from each of his wrists. "Hail, archdemon. It seems as if you've overestimated your own powers… shall I simply leave you for these mortals? You almost are not worthy of my attentions."

Dullahan seemed to smile… and suddenly disappeared.

Reappearing suddenly inches from him, and with one mailed fist smashing Regulus to the earth.

"That idiot!" Zhael grimaced, standing still beside Shiro, protecting him while tossing in the odd lightning bolt. Regulus hurtled from the sky, Dullahan close behind, his katana raised to finish the job. "He knew better than that!" she cried, and flattening her palms together then spreading them outward, added a blistering storm of lightning to the energy crashing against Dullahan's chest… slowing him down.

"Get a load of this!" Shiro said with effort, and as Zhael glanced over she saw him cultivating a superbomb in his pyrotechnic hands, fire swirling around it in clouds and entering it, the bomb growing larger and larger.

"_You_ idiot!" Zhael said, and elbowed Shiro in the side. Hard – he let out a wheezing oomph, and the bomb dissipated in his hands. "You're too old to be straining yourself like that! Come on, we're going back to the ship!" She grabbed him by the collar and began dragging him off, despite his protests.

"But Zhael, I can help…" his voice trailed away into the depths of the ship.

Behemos grinned and raised his arm-cannon to the sky. "She's got him whipped, eh Baelfael?"

His eyes glanced to the sky at the Knight of Fire… who stood there motionless, emotionlessly watching the battle unfold.

But it seemed to Behemos that, his friend's eyes fell lightly on the female wielder of water… and as he looked at her, he felt a pang in his own heart. The resemblance was remarkable.

_Moira_.

Glancing at Baelfael, he saw a tear in the corner of his friend's eye.

Regulus felt iron fingers wrap around his body as they hurtled earthwards, Dullahan driving him forward with a stiff arm, preparing to grind him into the dust. He glared darkly at Dullahan from beneath his visor, and glancing to the side, saw the brave mortals standing nearby, weapons at the ready.

The ground was a mere ten feet before them.

He sensed a surge in energy right beside him, then a wrist locked around his, and he felt his body break into a million pieces… and somehow he felt one with the wind, and swirled around Dullahan's body like vapour… to reassemble behind his back.

And found himself eye to eye with a beautiful blonde, hair green eyes remarkably calm.

"Hello, friends of Ashtarth. I'm his wife; he'll be along shortly." And with a light push, she brushed herself away and disappeared in a swirl of sparkles.

Regulus nodded silently, and turned, slashed across Dullahan's exposed back, smashing him into the dust, which rose around them like a veil.

Dullahan, armour plates grinding against each other, staggered to his feet… he almost stumbled once, twice, and bracing himself on massive fingers, glared hatefully to the side.

And perceiving the only enemy to have not attacked yet, and guessing weakness, moved faster than lightning and seized him, and with his tiny body in hand flew to the sky.

Baelfael felt the fingers close like iron around his body before he was even aware of Dullahan having moved. The ground sped away as wind whistled in his ears, carried higher and higher in the mercy of Dullahan's fist. And just as suddenly, Dullahan stopped and looked far below.

He will be my first consumption, my last tribute to darkness… and so too while all you be consumed.

With deliberate slowness, he lifted Baelfael over his body and began dropping him towards the gaping hole of his armour. The gate to all death – for Dullahan the bringer of death, for years countless.

Baelfael stared expressional into the void before him, a darkness _is_ that seemed to swell up and into his vision. Reflected there he saw dying galaxies, twisting embers of fire and last vestiges of souls that screamed even as they fell to ash… a hundred thousand deaths before him that would come again and again for all eternity in the hell that was inside the Dullahan – as the keeper of souls.

He had read of the Dullahan – how he brings absolute pain and numbing nihilism to those he imprisons, how none have ever escaped his prison.

For a moment, he considered allowing Dullahan to draw him in.  
Life was meaningless without Moira. This was a fact he concluded long ago, on the moment where he knelt beside her bedside and felt her cold lifeless wrist in his. A wrist wrinkled with time, but that short hours before had been beating, still happy, with life. With love.

And his heart died with hers.

So why not? Why not just surrender, and welcome the blackness? Eternal pain, torture everlasting… there was really not much difference between that and life without Moira.

He felt the edge of darkness begin to nip at his dangling legs. Sucking. Hungry.

He closed his eyes… and on the backs of his eyelids, he saw his lab. The android, suspended, nigh finished… the likeness of Moira, eternally young, and potentially eternally alive… and the Tomegathericon, the key to it all, he saw now.

Would he be faithful if he allowed himself escape while she could still live?

His eyes snapped open.

_No._ he knew, and the darkness wrapped itself around his legs. It was unspeakably cold down there… but suddenly, he felt an inferno of hope inside.

"I cannot die whilst still I love," he murmured, and clapped his hands to the arm that held him.

_**Flare.**_

The nanotattoos along his arms burned and then burst into flames as a red haze filled the air, the localized temperature erupting to five hundred to five thousand to ten thousand K. The armour glowed white hot beneath his fingertips, but he felt none of the immense heat he summoned now.

The glow of his nanotattoos raced down to his fingertips, and he flexed.

And felt the solid steel beneath his fingers grow soft like wax and then melt away, like liquid.

And flying, he broke away from the shadow and twisted away, while Dullahan's disembodied scream filled all their minds. He spun, molten armour spraying droplets through the air like a shower of flames, his arm gone to his shoulder, a ragged unformed hole all that remained.

_Ugh… you Knights, you mortals._ Hatred seethed in his voice like a bubbling poison. _One day, as you sleep, you will find death waiting in your dreams, and standing over you as you awaken. _He held his one hand over his injured shoulder as he lifted into the air and began to fly gingerly away, darkness going with him.

They watched him go silently. Emotionlessly.

There was only the sound of injured wings beating the air, and the ragged breath that still filled all their minds.

Dullahan sensed, rather than saw, the presence before him.

And reaching out, registered him. _No-_

Ashtarth smirked, his body coated in green and azure armour, his hair raised into three ridges. "Going somewhere?"

The wind surged behind him like a raging beast.

_NO!_ Dullahan barked as the wind tore him from the sky and flung him back the way he came, shredding his wings with razor breaths and eroding his armour, the millennia of harsh winds expressed in a few moments. He tumbled end over end and waiting, was Regulus.

Executing a perfect swan dive, he made his body linear and then twisting, dove into the hole at the top of Dullahan's armour.

Then, the wind died down, and Dullahan righted himself.

And began to laugh.

_The fool must've been too tired of life! My, what a perfect bunch of- __**GRAKH**_

That was the moment the pair of claws erupted from his chest.

Dullahan's one arm trailed towards the claws, as if in disbelief.

Then the claws each twisted, facing outwards.

And Regulus ripped Dullahan in half.

Regulus hung suspended in the air as the darkness around him dissipated, and the two lifeless halves of armour fell in slow motion to the sides… and then crumpling on themselves, crushed smaller and smaller until they were invisible.

A dark miasma of smoke wreathed around Regulus… and seemed to be absorbed into him.

For a moment, his eyes darkly glowed.


	3. Fireball

**~Any way the wind blows~**

Ivan breathed a sigh of relief as he found Feizhi, safe with all the children. They were tucked away beside the riverbank, the water dappled in moonlight. A pair of torches were stabbed into the ground nearby, as they chatted to each other and to Feizhi, who smiled as she sparred with Felix and Karst`s five-year old daughter, Garnet. The half-Proxian`s braids bounced as she punched at Feizhi, who laughed lightly as she showed her the proper method of attacking, blocking, and parrying in kung fu.

"Hey, Zhi," Ivan said gently, laying his hands on her shoulders and massaging gently.

"Mmm," Feizhi replied, nuzzling her cheek to the back of his hand. "Hello, Ivan. Is everyone okay?" she asked, as Garnet darted forward to strike, only to be wrapped up by Feizhi's arms and held upside down, squealing.

The Xianan stood and righted Garnet, then turning wrapping her arms around Ivan's waist and embraced him tightly.

Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and stroked her silky hair. "Everyone's okay, Zhi," he said reassuringly, his eyes staring seemingly far away. "It should be over any second now."

"_Ivan!"_ The chorus of little voices rang out, and Ivan and Feizhi suddenly found themselves in the midst of a group hug, their faces pressed close together by a class of laughing, smiling children.

Despite herself, Feizhi smiled as well, and ruffled the redblue hair of Garet and Mia's oldest. "Ivan," she said slowly, "Why don't we have children?" Her hand on his back traced circles around his spine.

Ivan sweatdropped, his face full of the lilac scent Zhi wore. "I don't know, Zhi," he said honestly. She raised her eyes.

Feizhi looked at Ivan.

Ivan looked at Feizhi.

**~Any way the wind blows~**

"Thank you for your assistance," Mia was saying to their visitors as Ivan and Feizhi walked up. "We would've been hard-pressed to have won otherwise," she said, bowing deeply.

"Ah, look who finally showed up," Garet said, grinning as he saw Ivan and Feizhi holding hands, hair slightly dishevelled on both of them.

"Oh?" Ivan raised an eyebrow, smirking. "At least I'm not getting the cold shoulder from _my_ wife for forgetting my anniversary."

"Why you little," Garet growled, but stopped as Regulus stepped forward, nodding to Mia.

"It is of no consequence, our assistance," Regulus said flatly. "Dullahan was one of few remaining archdemons. Every one destroyed brings me one closer to breaking my curse."

"Curse?" Felix asked. The Tomegathericon now rested safely in his home, returned by his own hands, but his thoughts bent keenly towards it in worry.

Regulus turned to him. "I was once tainted by the Shadow, long ago. Only by claiming every last fragment of its being can I break the curse, and until that day I cannot feel emotions such as happiness, joy, or love. Save for in the presence of Zoniha, who is my antithesis to the curse."

The Elemental Knight of Light smiled brilliantly, flashing the peace sign and smirking. "Men. Can't survive without a good woman at their side."

Baelfael turned away suddenly, but his candle-coloured hair shifted as he looked over his shoulder. "It is good of you to return to us, Ashtarth."

Sheba's hand tightened around his. She turned and looked up at him, her hair falling softly as her eyes met his.

"I think I owe you all a story," Ashtarth said quietly, and it seemed suddenly the wind and every voice silenced to listen. He rubbed the back of Sheba's hand with his thumb, and felt her fingers squeeze in response.

Ashtarth faced the sky, orange eyes moving as if searching for something there, flicking back and forth. His green braids hung around his neck like a rope, as he took a deep, strangled breath.

"I am thousands of years old," he said finally, in a voice that was like a sigh. "Indeed, I am Immortal – I will never die, even as everything I love dies around me, and I am left alone." he looked down at Sheba's gaping mouth, then quickly averted his eyes.

Her fingers tried to slip from his, but he held on. "Hear me out."

"This was not a fate I chose. I am the Elemental Knight of Wind, the incarnation of the God of Wind, the dark side of the face of Arylath, his light side and twin being Aeldayu, mistress of storms, expressed in Zhael."

"I have never had a home. The nature of the Dark Face is to always seek but never find peace, while the Light Face is to need a home, to find solace in another. I blew from one world to another, chained to the centre of Fate, every whirling around and try to escape my bonds, searching for the home that I knew lay just beyond reach."

"Then came Sthertoth."

The air was dead quiet, the honey of Ashtarth's voice the only sound.

"I was locked, captive into slavery, forced to find a home. I did, on a world made of clouds – Horizon. There, I did unspeakable horrors. I _killed innocents._ I held a world in thrall – and always, always, the dark voice whispering in my mind."

The Elemental Knights suddenly looked uneasy, wrapped in their own memories of a far-distant past.

Ashtarth's eyes descended from the sky and turning, glancing back at the ship. "Shiro saved us. Saved us all… by destroying us."

"For a long while, I knew nothing. I have no recollection of anything past my death, though I remember my essence being absorbed into Shiro… in a matter of speaking, I fought for and with him."

"We all did," Zhael said, stepping into the group, her eyes glistening. "He's resting now," she said to Ashtarth's eyes. "He overexerted himself… almost passed out. I worry for him," she said, rubbing her arms despite the summer night.

Ashtarth gave a sigh. "It would not be the first time he has risked himself so." His eyes hooded. "To tell a long story short, Shiro defeated the creator of the universe using our combined powers. The Angel of Light and Shadow who rules over everything and judges the universe granted us life once more… to serve as her vassals."

"I couldn't accept that. Not again."

"And after facing Sigma, the mad Celestial Knight, I simply didn't have will anymore."

"I wandered the universe for centuries, searching for nothing. I didn't care. My life would always be like this, devoid of purpose, home, or…"

He coughed. "Forgive me. I have waited so long to tell this, wanted so much to tell this, I have rehearsed it countless times… but it all falls apart when the moment comes. I'll be brief."

"Eventually I discovered the Primaterra, the first World. I was exhausted. I had long ago lost any desire to journey, to travel, and wanted a home." He looked towards the Adepts, and smiled. "They took me in. Showed me the world again… taught me once more how to talk to people, how to have fun, how to live, and how to love."

Sheba's hand gripped his tightly, and she hid her emerald eyes in his chest.

"Don't ever leave me," she whispered, for him only to hear. "I'll fight the wind and everything I have to. I won't lose you."

Ashtarth said nothing, stroking the back of her hair, looking over the top of her head with burning eyes of defiance, at the eyes staring silently.

**~Any way the wind blows~**

"What the hell were you thinking, Ashtarth?" Behemos demanded, slamming his fist on the table. His chiselled features were taut with anger. "Marrying a mortal? Don't you know how that turns out? Don't you remember?"

"I'm afraid I don't," Ashtarth retorted coldly. "I have not seen you in hundreds of years. This is quite the welcome back, if I may so."

"Well then, let me give you a quick briefing," he snarled. "Let me tell you what happened to Baelfael, since he doesn't seem to care to tell it himself." He waved towards the Knight of Fire who silently occupied the third seat at their table.

They had retired to the arc-en-ciel, rather than burden the Weyardians with having to care for them.

Ashtarth was quickly wishing he had stayed in Vale, his thoughts returning again and again to Sheba.

"You remember Moira, my little sis," Behemos began.

"I remember," Ashtarth said sharply.

"Well then, do you remember how long ago that was? Moira was my little sis since I raised her as a baby, after our parents were killed. I loved her more than life itself… she's the one who kept me from going batshit with rage while dealing with the gang. And if there's anyone who loved her more than I did, it was Bael," Bem said, his fists curled and shaking on the table. "They loved _each other_. He taught her everything she knew, all the technology, all the considerable knowledge that was his he imparted on her. And she taught him to love life, to get out of his fucking lab and see the world, to talk to other people."

"Behemos," Baelfael said quietly, and immediately they both turned to him. His body was shaking, his mouth dry. "Let me."

He turned to Ashtarth. "I loved her with my whole being. But she was mortal. As Behemos' kshar'wa, she lived for hundreds of years, but in the end, I lived for longer."

"She _died_, Ashtarth, and everything I loved died with her. There will never be any thing in the universe that will replace her, for that love only comes once," Baelfael said, though as he did his mind thought to his lab, and the

(sleeping)

body suspended like an idol, in the heart of all his work. His decades of labour, to bring back what was lost.

"She's gone now, Ashtarth," he said, his voice as cold as the edge of a knife. "I will never love again, and I feel life slipping away from me with every breath I take. I will live forever with this pain, there can be no solace for those held forever in the Angel's thrall. Zhael now begins to feel the same pain, now that Shiro is on his deathbed. And this "Sheba" you have married, she is but just mortal. She will be fortunate to live to the age of one hundred."

Ashtarth raised one hand towards Baelfael. "I will make her my kshar'wa, and so extend our time together. I am aware that someday, after we have lived long and full… she will die. But it is too late to return now, Lotus of Flame, it is always far too late where love is concerned. For she has redefined me as a person, and I will not willing return to the loneliness I felt before."

"Loneliness far greater than that awaits you after," Baelfael warned.

Ashtarth was silent for a moment, his hands flat on the table. Eventually, he heaved a sigh, and looked up at Baelfael. "Answer me this. If you could… if you could turn back the hands of time through the centuries when you first met Moira… would you fall in love with her again? Do you regret it, with all the happy memories of life? Would you take back all the years of life together in exchange for escape from your life now?"

Baelfael was silent.

Ashtarth stood, pushing back his chair with a screech. "Then pray, do not begrudge me the same joy, the same love. I go now to my wife, I bid you farewell and goodnight, gentlemen," he said, orange eyes burning, as he turned his shoulder to them without another word and stalked from the room.

They sat in silence for a moment more, and then Baelfael looked away. "I have business to attend to, Behemos. I, too, must take my leave."

Behemos looked at him long and hard. "Business in the lab?"  
Baelfael turned and walked away. "In a manner of speaking."

**~Any way the wind blows~**

Felix stepped up to his door, singing a low Proxian song under his breath. It was the end of a long day, so late it was early. The drink was heavy in his blood, and as he turned his head towards the mountains – he had built he and Karst's house to afford a view of the mountains unequalled in all of Vale.

Then, like now, the sun would rise upon the peaks of the Alephan range, bathing them all in a warm red-gold glow the colour of Mars Lighthouse' glow. He was disappointed Karst wasn't here to watch it with him – she had excused herself halfway through the party, citing that the children had to go to bed. Indeed, Garnet and little Sorutas had been rubbing their eyes, yawning… and were well asleep by now, he trusted.

With a little warmth in his earthen eyes, Felix pushed the door open.

It took a beat for his eyes to register the torn, demolished shell of a room, and in that time his heart turned to ice, horror chilling his heart.

The table and chairs lay splintered across the floor, the feather-packed pillows on the floor torn open and to shreds. Cupboards fallen askew from their bolts, the walls stripped of their boards and scorched with the clearly-recognizable marks of flames. And now that he saw it, he recognized the same signs all throughout the room, and his eyes clearly imagined what had happened here – he saw the flames arcing across the room in swooping, graceful arcs, painting the walls and floors a sooty, dark black, the wave of heat flipping the table on its side and splintering it, engulfing the chairs, all while this figure, this assailant, twisted through the room and smashed everything with great, burly hands. It was a shell of a room, and it seemed like no one had lived there for years. It was scarcely habitable as is.

Finally, a part of his mind that had been screaming at him the entire time shook him to awareness. _The children! _It screamed, _the children!_

And on the heels of that,

_KARST!_

Oh, Fate! Had she been here to meet the assailant? Was he really seeing the remnants of Karst's psynergy from the battle, as she undoubtedly fought to protect their children? What would he find when he went upstairs? The body of his wife, and those of his children, laying in slowly-spreading pools of blood?

He drew his sword without a scrape of the sheath, and stepped into the room, pushing the door closed behind him so if the assailant was still here, he would be unable to leave without alerting him.

It took him a moment to register that someone was leaning on the wall behind the door.

His sword was plunging towards the shape before he even realized he attacked.

The figure seemed to fall gracefully to his knees, the sword shearing through the wood inches above his head. "Calm yourself, Felix," the voice said, the slightest bit of surprise present. "Your reflexes are good; learn to control them."

Felix recognized the one known as Regulus, one of their strange visitors. But still, he did not lower his blade – he was well aware of what this Knight of Shadow did to Dullahan, and had no way of knowing if in fact he was the one who had ransacked his home. "Explain yourself, skydweller. Why are you here?"

The pale, slender man pushed himself off the wall, and as he looked up, Felix was surprised to realize that he looked younger than he was – perhaps 25, at most. If he believed what they said about being immortal, then that would make sense.

And knowing one other such person

_(Piers)_

he didn't find it that hard to believe.

The young man with the cold, cold eyes and the hair so black it was blue looked him in the eyes. "Your children are safe," he murmured. "I ensured that myself as soon as I arrived."

"How do I know you tell the truth?" he said, his sword aimed true at Regulus' heart.

Regulus shrugged. "If you do not believe me, look for yourself. I don't care."

Still keeping his sword on target, Felix took two steps back slowly, and ascended the stairs, his psynergy swirling at the ready.

As soon as Regulus was out of his sight, he lowered his sword and ran down the hall – which bore similar scorch marks – and reached for the door to his children's room.

"Daddy?" he heard Garnet's voice, afraid but – thank the Gods – alive. And unhurt, from the sound of it.

He opened the door, sword still not entirely sheathed – it could be a trap – and was promptly tackled. By his daughter, who buried her face in his stomach, her little brother toddling along behind her, and wrapping himself around his father's leg.

Felix carefully pried Sorutas off his leg and hefted him up to his shoulder, where the two-year-old clung, terrified. He knelt in front of his daughter, and gathered to him with his other hand as she sobbed.

"What happened here, Garnet?" he demanded, more roughly than he intended. "Where's your mother?"

"I-I was so scared, daddy, but I sensed your aura and knew it was all going to be okay,"

(she can already sense that?)

"But a bad man came, said he was looking for a book, and as long as we helped him, no one would be hurt. We were helping him, scared, when mommy got here. She asked him what he was doing here, and he said there was something he needed. Someone he missed terribly, and they could help him get her back."

"I blurted out that he wouldn't hurt us as long as we helped him, and mommy's eyes got really scary."

"She told him to let us go right away, and _he_ wouldn't be hurt."

"Just then, Sortu walked out of the next room, clutching the book."

"He took it and, with a disdainful look at mommy, moved to walk out the door."

"Mommy waited until he had walked away from us, before shooting a Flare beside him. As a warning shot."

(so it was Karst)

(hell of a warning shot)

"He had stopped, and then Mommy said,"

(he could hear it)

He pictured Karst standing there, hand on her scythe and other outstretched, eyes burning towards the unknown assailant, who he pictured as all in shadow, a great hulking figure.

"_You think you can just walk into my home, threaten my children, steal my husband's possession, and just walk off unscathed? Do they have honour where you come from, or did you lose that with all your science and shattered myth? I don't know how things are where you come from, but here we do things differently."_

"Give back the Tomegathericon, and I may let you leave," fire curling in her hand, the children cowering behind her.

"The man replied calmly that he needed the book, and that someday he would return it. Mommy told us to go back to our room, which we did. I didn't see any more, but there were loud noises from downstairs. We felt psynergy, and heard yelling, and then there was nothing. But we were too scared to go check," she sounded almost apologetic, as if she was expected to go fight with Karst.

Truly her mother's daughter, Felix thought wryly.

"It's okay, amocur," Felix whispered, using the Proxian term of endearment. He hugged her tightly. "You were very brave."

He stood up, and put Sorutas down beside his sister. "Be brave for a little longer for daddy, he's going to look for your mother."

Garnet wiped the tear from her eye – Felix doubted she even knew she was crying, and nodded.

Felix kissed her on the cheek, ruffled his son's hair, and stood up. "Look after your sister, Sortu. Watch out for each other."

He felt their eyes on him as he walked from the room, and he knew they didn't want him to leave.

He found Regulus still in the room downstairs, and walked past him without saying a word. But the man's voice, low and tinged with a faint accent, stopped him cold.

"Be careful. You need to know exactly what you will be facing."

"You know?" Felix said, whirling on the prince of shadows. He watched the figure, slouched casually once again against the wall, and remembered this same person tear Dullahan literally to pieces.  
He looked at him through silky hair. "I will guard your children. This is our responsibility as well, as we are to blame. Nothing will happen while I am here, I promise you."

"Who did this?" Felix pressed.

Regulus drew a cocoa candy from his pocket and popped it into his mouth, tossing the wrapper on the floor. "Take solace – if anyone among you stands a chance against him, in stopping his madness, it is your wife."'

"If anyone can stand against the Elemental Knight of Fire, it's her."

Baelfael.

Felix ran out into the slumbering down, completely silent after the excitement of the night before. He stumbled into the courtyard, eyes trying to look in every way at once, searching for any sign of battle, or blood, or his wife.

When his eyes revealed nothing, he turned to his other senses.

He fell to his hands and knees, feeling the packed earth through his clothing. He spread his palms on the stone, touching it, caressing it, warming the stone to him. He felt the earth surge and respond, and suddenly he felt it. Could almost picture it.

The pitter-patter of swift, light footsteps.

Another set, just as light, but each step thirty feet apart.

And – there – the swift bite of a blade into the stone, the scorching of fire that melts the stone, sending ripples of psynergy to where he lay, one with and sensing the stone.

He turned his eyes to the west.

The mountains.


	4. The Root of All Evil

add this after the youtube address

/watch?v=RgAc7ekYmVA&fmt=18

**~Any way the wind blows~**

She saw Baelfael just ahead, and her grip tightened on her scythe. She planted one foot firmly on the ground, braced against the foothills of Vale, and leapt thirty feet through the air, soaring with the wind rushing through her hair and landing gracefully on the precipice above.

The man in the white coat turned and with a casual gesture, aimed a small fireball at her. She raised one arm and shoved it aside dismissively, as it spiralled down and exploded on the hillside below.

He glanced down at her, and raised one skeptical eyebrow.

"Why do you pursue me, mortal? Is this book really that valuable to you?" he patted his pocket, where the book lay. "You have witnessed what I did to the demon. Are you so willing to risk the same fate for yourself?"

"All mortals die, and you are no different," he said, expressionless. It was not with glee, arrogance, or malice that he said this. It was the matter-of-fact statement of a scientific fact.

"Sorry, I just can't stand arrogant jackasses like you," Karst replied, swinging her scythe. "And I can't stand thieves. Just a pet peeve, it's nothing personal," she said affably, but her eyes said that it was something very personal indeed.

Baelfael sniffed and turned around, his head turned back over his shoulder for an instant. "If you desire this object of bound paper and runes, this simple book, then take it from me."

"I intend to," Karst said, and suddenly she was mere feet away from Baelfael, her scythe swung in a glittering arc in the early morning light.

Baelfael simply smirked and leaping straight up, executed a perfect flip.

The blade passed under his head by the width of a finger.

He felt it whistle through his hair, leaving several to fall to the stone below as it severed them easily.

He landed catlike on his feet.

The slowly lightening sky overhead was free of clouds, as the meadows of heaven closed their flowers in slumber, chased away by the rising god to the east. The faces of the mountains they stood on now lay bathed in gold, a wave of light roaring silently against an embankment of earth. Beyond the crest however, looking across a land where the only sight was the lifeless back of the earth, darkness still ruled supreme.

It was here that Baelfael, sunlight pouring over his body like anointing oil, face alit and hair transforming into fire, spread his arms and like a god, looked down on Karst below. And her, outlines in light from behind, expression cast in darkness, looked back.

Her scythe shone in the red-yellow sun as she drew it, and seemed to set aglow with the same fire that Mars Lighthouse held.

The battle, like the striking of a spark, ignited.

Burn.

She leapt forward, one knee tucked before her and the other leg perfectly straight back to keep her balance. Her scythe flashed in an arc before her, but this time she from there she stabbed with the haft of the blade, then crossing her footsteps swept the blade down from above.

Baelfael once more merely evaded, each time stepping back just enough to taunt death. He moved in short, quick bursts, an infuriating expression of calmness on his face, Karst's attacks increasingly frenzied and angry.

Finally she swung her scythe and let go with one hand, her free hand sliding to the very end of the shaft as its own momentum carried it, extending as far as she could reach with it.

Baelfael once again jumped back, dancing across the uneven ridge of stone as if it was a ballroom floor.

But not swiftly enough.

The scythe tore across his midsection, ripping cloth and flesh alike, leaving a thin red line across his stomach. It was merely a superficial wound, but as the fire spread up his stomach, he knew it would be painful.

"You like that?" Karst growled as Baelfael leapt backwards, one hand flying to his stomach in surprise. She spun her scythe like a baton and braced it behind her, her free hand open before her.

He held his fingertips to his eyes, registering the blood gleefully shining on the surface. His eyes moved past his fingers as he looked at her.

Her heart faltered for a moment.

The emotion she saw there was not hate, nor anger… but rather, a clinical fascination.

"Truly, the inhabitants of the Primaterra are remarkable," he observed. "I wonder just how far your capabilities extend?"

Her felt, rather than saw, the heat of the fireball as it screeched towards her, the air superheating and exploding around it. It quickly grew in size, igniting the air itself, and shortly she was faced by a fireball much, much larger than the one previous.

She gritted her teeth, and raised her arm to cover her eyes, and tucked her head into her chest.

The fire was suddenly all around here, consuming her, tugging at her, trying to scorch her skin and to pull her flesh away from her bones. Her dress immediately caught fire and burned around her, shrivelling at the ends and falling into ashes. The metal of her scythe grew white-hot in her grip.

But she was unworried.

With her free hand, she reached ahead, and parted the curtain of fire.

And dismissively pulled it down before her.

Her scales glowed brightly in the afterglow of the fire, her skin only lightly darkened by the powerful fire attack. Her hair seemed to shine, long and luxuriant, as if watered by the fire. Her wedding dress was burned away, to reveal familiar garb beneath.

A dragonskin miniskirt, pleated at the hem with red triangles, and a similar material making her shirt. Her stomach, arms, and legs were bare – and as she stalked confidentially across the ridge towards Baelfael, her eyes thrown up in challenge, his mouth parted in silent marvel.

"Resistance to fire… marvellous. It seems as if the old paradox may finally be answered," he said, spreading his arms wide to shoulder height, twin fireballs exploding in his palms. "What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable wall?"

Karst suddenly ran full-tilt, her naturally tough feet bare, finding every crevice and crack in the stone and slipping into it for purchase. Her scythe trailed behind her like a tail, her hair a flaming mane. "I know what happens."

She pressed into the stone and flexed her leg muscles, then sprang high into the air – straight at Baelfael.

"You die."

The funnel of fire buried and locked itself in Baelfael's chest, his throw of flame going wild into the dawn sky. The cord of fire remained connected to Karst's open palm, as she used it like a rope and drew herself over Baelfael in a graceful arc. Her body contorted as she flipped through the air and extending her legs, kicked Baelfael squarely in the back with both feet. The resulting push drove her forward and arms outstretched, she sprang off her scythe and deftly spun in midair, landing to face Baelfael with her feet together, scythe held daintily at her side.

She snorted and tossed her hair back as the scientist lay sprawled on his face. "Oh, I have still got it. You never should have crossed my family, Baelfael," she called. "Threatening my children! You think one would know better by your age. Or maybe that's the problem? You've decayed with time?"

"I regret to say it," Baelfael's voice said, but it was barely recognizable – it was thick and lush with power, and it seemed to her that she heard the burning of many flames beneath it. "But your hypothesis is flawed."

In the blink of an eye, his arms flashed out the side and flames erupted from the ground all around him, stone hurtling far into the air and then falling, a stone rain that left the earth splintering and cracking in Karst's ears. The figure levitated off the ground and set itself lightly on its feet, and she noticed a brilliant red light filtering through the sleeves of his arms. He reached down and rolled up his sleeves, revealing for the second time the intricate web of designs and geometric patterns that adorned his arms.

His hair wavered in constant motion, like the movement of fire itself.

His head turned sharply towards her, and she saw his eyes were filled with fire.

And then the ground between them was erupting, stone hurtling into the air as magma vomited from the earth itself, cracks spiderwebbing redhot through the dull stone.

As Karst frantically leapt backwards as the very ground broke beneath her, she realized something.

He wasn't just calling up reserves of magma in the mountain, she would've sensed that and had warning.

He was creating the eruption himself.

And then the ground beneath her was erupting, and coherent thought bowed out the door to instinct, reflex, and battle-hardened training.

She parried a flurry of rocks the size of her fist, dodged one the size of her head and – despite what coherent thought would've told her – leapt out towards the eruption, finding ground in the boulders rising from the earth itself. She ran across still-turning boulders, sideways as a boulder rose beside her, and slid across the magma as a boulder hurtled straight towards her, molten rock splashing around her as she dove feet first, the top of her head scraping the several-ton stone as it zoomed by overhead.

She gathered her feet beneath her once it passed and sprang at Baelfael, scythe at the ready.

His eyes flashed, and suddenly the Fire erupted directly before him, and a massive boulder the size of a wagon appeared, directly in her path.

Flames coursed up her arms as she drew from the erupting earth beneath her, and her scythe began to glow with an ominous red glow.

(Death Scythe)

She swung her scythe vertically, and the psynergy-imbued weapon passed through the stone like it was grain. The stone parted, molten where the blade touched it, and fell in two halves to the side.

Her eyes saw for a second Baelfael's stunned expression, and then she rode the shaft of her scythe into his throat, driving him backwards against the stone, forcing the shaft down to cut off his air supply.

She braced her arms and glared down at him, angry red into glowing fire.

Baelfael moved his hands from their attempt to push off the scythe, and instead firmly planted his fists into Karst's stomach.

She grabbed tightly onto her scythe just as-

The immense burst of fire beneath her threw her into the air. Tens, a hundred, hundreds of feet into the air, until Baelfael was a mere point on the ground.

He levitated to his feet and opened his fists.

The beam of fire that was pushing her suddenly opened up.

He reached forward and closed his hand.

The fire wrapped molten fingers around her waist and, fire immunity or not, it hurt.

She gritted her teeth as he waved back his hand.

The hand maintained its grip and first carried her at what seemed like the speed of sound backwards, she almost lost her stomach-

Then he flung his arm forward and opened his fingers

- and she was hurtled forward at twice the speed and then she was flying, hurtling through the air towards the mountain below her, the wind howling in her ears as she picked up velocity. The corrugated stone rushed towards her, and Baelfael traced his progress with burning eyes, her falling figure reflected in the lenses of his glasses.

"Fare thee well, brave one," he said quietly. "But there is no wall that can survive against the force of my love. I swore to myself that I she would live again… and nothing else matters."

As he turned to leave, a brilliant star blossomed in the golden sky, and he felt the wave of fire energy hit him. He spun back around so quickly his spine cracked.

The back of her dragonskin shirt first distorted, as if something was pushing beneath it… and then, it ripped, first by two wicked spines, followed quickly and majestically by twin, fully-formed dragon wings.

She arched her back as they extended, flexing to their fullest ten foot extension behind her, and immediately felt the nature of her descent change from free-fall to glide.

Her wings rippled and snapped like canvas in the wind, as she slowly approached the mountain beneath, her blood boiling from the dragon awakened in her spirit. When she opened her mouth to breathe her exultation, she revealed teeth that were just a little bit spiked, just a little bit carnivorous, and when looked at her hands she saw they were tipped with little hooks.

When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw rose-coloured skin stretched over the bones over her wing, and a dark, wine-like red spread between its fingers, a lighter-pink, almost white, on the inside.

She landed on the mountainside at a strange angle, and had to take several steps to regain her balance, her wings nearly toppling her over with their added weight. But as her blood began to cool, and her heartrate began to slow, she felt… them slowly disappear.

With a noise like flesh burning, they shrivelled to the bone, and fell off her back.

She spun around in shock, and found herself across a gulf of several hundred feet, at the tiny figure on the other side.

If she could have seen her back, she would've simply seen her pale, scale-dappled skin through the rents in her armour.

She stared across the gulf to the figure on the other side, and beckoned, flames rising from the air around her. With a gesture, she sent the Inferno across the gulf.

He couldn't help but smile.

What a marvellous specimen.

But as the fireballs hurtled towards him, his smile turned to a frown, as he levitated from the ground and began flying across the gulf

"What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?" his eyes were wild, dancing with flames, his hair blown back in the wind and his coat rippling. "What happens when my love meets your honour? Which one will be the first to surrender?" he called, flames forming in the abyss beneath him and shooting towards Karst like bolts of lightning.

Karst windmilled her scythe, the flames breaking across it harmlessly, strands of broken fire washing over her form. She smirked, and crouching, sprang backwards up onto the ridge behind her.

"Come find out," she said. "Before I burn that book of yours," she said, her eyes dancing gleefully.

Baelfael said nothing more, but spread his arms and leapt at Karst.

"Finally," she said, as the rain of fireballs fell all around her.

The mountains were silent. No creature cried here, save for far above, the cry of the eagle against the rising sun.

Silence shattered - no, burned – by the fire that erupted from beneath.

They moved further and further away from Vale, leaping from mountaintop to mountaintop, eyes always on each other as they leapt from stone to stone, from peak to peak, soaring through the air in feats of physical or magical ability. Scythes rent the air and flames snaked hissing, burning Karst's body a little at a time and sending her flying back from their very force.

Theirs was a deadly dance, the air itself aflame, in the solitary wilderness of dawn.

She dove across the stone, her dragonskin shirt protecting her from most of the harm as gravel scraped her tough Proxian skin. A half-second later, the river of fire hit the ground where she had been standing a second before, flames curling white-hot around the core of the spell, instantly liquefying the rocks beneath it. She swore. She was resistant to fire, true, but this was on an entirely new level.

She sensed, rather than saw, another fire attack coming in from above… felt the pull of the psynergetic network as he swept his arms upward, the very fabric of Mars moved by his spellcasting.

Freewheel, she heard him whisper, and burning, felt, rather than saw, the air change as an arc of fire formed before him, slowly inscribing a circle in the air. Like a painter's work, the circle was filled with fire piece by piece, and after a beat, the rim glowed.

And a spiral of fire erupted forth, descending to where she lay prone.

Instinct kicked in, as she rolled to the side just above the stream of flame, which began slowly arcing around in a circle, after the nature of the spiral attack. She raised her scythe in the air, now on her back, and stabbed the hilt at the earth beside her, using it to prop her up just ahead of the next wave of fire, which she slashed defiantly behind her.

She glanced a glance up and saw him suspended there in the sky, the wheel of fire grown to perhaps fifty feet across, his form thinly visible as a darkness in the flames, a faint outline as unreachable as one's own shadow.

His eyes burned back from the heart of the fire.

She stood defiantly on her two feet, though doubt began to creep into her heart. This man… wasn't truly a man at all, was he?

The true implications of what it meant to be an Elemental Knight began to dawn on her.

To be the source, the foundation, the channelling demigod of an entire element.

Not that she necessarily believed their story, but all the same, he was an extremely powerful Adept.

She looked up at him, and doubt writhed.

Was victory truly possible in such a situation?

She could not even approach him.

Through the rippling fire, she saw a smirk.

The fire glowed.

Yet, she knew… he had been mortal once. He had his weaknesses. Perhaps… with Fate's help

(not Mars anymore)

she could win… Immortal, if he was once mortal, he could die.

Mars psynergy rose around her, and she, sheathing her scythe, raised both hands into the sky.

The dawn light poured.

Fire convulsed, rotating softly, furling petals of fire around her.

Rosenkreutz.

The petals opened like the gateway to Gehenna, revealing a swirling mass of fire that had been her hands.

A geyser of blaze burst forth like a volcano.

Baelfael's eyes narrowed.

The great wheel of fire spread out across the sky curled inwards around the attack, which raged against its bonds to break through.

There was a beat, in which everything was perfectly still.

And then both attacks exploded in glorious fire.

Felix looked across the gulf of stone at the wheel of fire in the sky, and the brilliant star beneath it, and felt his heart leap into his throat.

The smoke had scarcely cleared before they leapt at each other.

Karst planted a foot on the stone and leapt into the air as he dove down, her scythe curling through the air. Baelfael created and dissipated a shield of raw energy in an instant to repel her blade, then sent raw force into Karst's chest. She flew backwards head over heels and smashed into the mountainside with a great crash.

The breath left her body as her head slammed into the earth and almost immediately, she felt a trickle of warm blood down her scalp.

(that was new)

She looked up in surprise, and turning her head to the side, spat out blood on the earth. Looked like it wasn't just her head that was hurt.

But in the air, smug, he beckoned.

She got up, staggered, and leapt again.

They raced along the spine of mountains, she scythe swinging, he trying to redirect her force with pure power.

They were more airborne, the sky more filled with fire, than not.

Baelfael paused on the mountainside.

Karst's scythe swung and sent up a shower of sparks as it hit the stone where he had been a second ago.

She pulled her scythe from the stone with effort, and leapt across the void again afterwards.

She brought her scythe overhead, scarlet hair rippling, and descended down upon him.

He looked up and sidestepped across the stone, but instead of flying away

Buried a fist in her gut.

Her eyes flew wide open with pain and exhilaration – yes, exhilaration.

Finally, he bites.

Karst's scythe clattered to the mountainside and slid down the stone for perhaps fifty feet before coming to a rest, perched precariously on the abyss.

Karst bent around his fist, then grinning, grabbed his wrist. Planted her feet on the earth, and with a shrug of her hip, flipped him over her shoulder and into the earth.

She was thrilled when he reached with his other arm and grabbed her wrist and rolling onto his back, kicked her behind him.

She landed deftly on the ground, rolling to her feet in an instant.

This is what she lived for. Fighting.

And she found quite a willing partner.

His eyes were cold, concentrated as she spun around and delivered a kick from above, his arm rising to grab her leg and flip her backwards.

She used his push to spin with her other leg and kick him beneath the chin, landing on her hands and springing out of reach.

But he was there to catch her as she landed, a flurry of fists to her stomach.

She flexed her abdominal muscles and bearing them, raised her elbow and smashed it into his head.

He wavered for a moment, dazed, and she seized the opportunity, grabbing his head and introducing it to her knee, then grabbed his shoulders and with a twist of her waist, flipped him.

He lay on the stone for a moment, stunned, and once more she pressed her advantage.

But her foot came down on stone, and a moment later his wrist wrapped around her ankle, and pulled her to the stone.

(damn he's fast)

But before he could strike, she tucked in her arms and rolled to the side, hard. Ignoring the pain of biting stones as she slid down the side of the mountain until-

One hand wrapped around the shaft of her scythe and leaping up, unleashed an Supernova.

There was a whir of charging energy, and then explosions ricocheted through the air.

And through the fire Baelfael flew, his still-human body not protecting him as well as Karst's. His skin burned bright red and then he raised his fist into the air, gathering pure elemental force into it… and gritting his teeth, his fist flashed out like a whip and struck her on the breastbone.

She flew backwards through the air, across the rift between mountains, and into and inside the mountain on the other side.

He looked steadily at the hole formed on the rock, and the promising darkness within, and levitated.

Karst groaned as she lay prone on the floor of jagged stone, breath blowing back in her face as she exhaled against the mountain's gut.

The air was musty with the stench of the long-contained, thick with moisture from an underground stream somewhere. It occurred to her that this may be the first time this cave was exposed to the world in thousands of years – how long since its formation, had a cave in sealed it off to the world?

Her reminiscence was cut short by Baelfael appearing at the gateway, a floating figure wreathed in a red glow. His white coat was torn and shredded, burned in places, his hair askew and his face marked with soot.

She pulled herself from the ground, her bare legs and arms likewise dirty with rockdust and soot, the dragonskin shirt she wore slowly tearing to pieces in the back, from where she had needed her wings before. Her breath was ragged, her mouth half-open to catch her wind. Now that there was a break in the fighting, she began to be keenly aware of just how tired and hurt – yes, hurt – she was. With the red fog of bloodlust fading from her eyes, her body began to slow down, and ache. Burns innumerable, regardless of her part-dragon nature, bruised bones from many fierce strikes and – she suspected – some internal bleeding, as well.

She put her hands together, and grimaced. She only hoped he was feeling the same pain.

The bolt of fire shot just shy of her left air at the same moment she fired her's past his right.

Surprisingly, lit by the glow of their attacks, they saw that the other wore a smile.

Warning shot.

And then Karst turned and, running up the side of the cliff wall from the stream of fire burning the ground behind her, flipped off and fired a Volcano Ball, the superexplosive ball of psynergy hitting true – but not at Baelfael but rather, the stalactites above him.

He looked up with surprise as the red glow filled the cave, revealing an immense room filled with stalactites and stalagmites, the floor vaguely concave. It was most empty, however, and as the shadows danced left and right in the oscillating aftermath of the explosion, so to were their faces bathed in perfect light.

Pebbles fell from above as the ceiling shook… and then fell above Baelfael.

Fragments smashed into his body and left dead limbs in their wake as his arms seemed to lose all feeling, but somehow he threw himself bodily out of the way, just narrowly avoiding death by impalement.

Even so, one of the stalactites pierced the tail of his coat, pinning it firmly to the ground.

With an almost shrug of impatience, he squirmed out of the coat, revealing a sleeveless white vest-shirt beneath. The nanotattoos continued from his wrists and spiralled all up his arms before slinking beneath his shirt.

He was careful never to turn his back on Karst, now.

Lest she know.

He was incredibly slender, skin pale, arms lacking harder any muscle definition at all. He was a scientist primarily, not a fighter.

But yet, he was matching with Karst.

He raised his arms, fireballs once more forming in his palms. And then he began moving his arms in circles, the fireballs beginning to move up and down in a circle before him. More and more fireballs formed, until he appeared to be juggling a wheel of fire.

They illuminated him brightly and clearly in the otherwise blackest cave, Karst's cautious expression just a dim shade on his sight.

One by one, the fireballs left the circle and hurtled towards Karst.

(whoosh)

as they flew towards her, shadows moving with their light left and right across the cave, playing with light and making the stalactites seem as the bars of a prison for an instant.

These shadows, crawling across the walls, gave her an idea.

But for now she leapt furiously to the side and kicked off the ground with her heels into a double-roll, fireballs hitting the ground behind her. She turned and met the last fireball with one of her own and then, her recovered scythe flashing. She parted fireball after fireball like so much air before her and then swung her scythe wide, aiming to cut him in half.

He once more dodged it effortlessly, but this time Karst was ready.

She had already freed one hand off her scythe, and now pointed it downwards and at point-blank range, buried him in a stream of fire.

The cave lit up, the shadows wavering furiously in the constant fire, darkness all but eradicated. And Karst, Karst could hardly look at her own fire that she was producing.

Then, exhausted for now, she stopped, and just as completely, darkness fell over the cave.

It would take several minutes for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, a critical error, she realized. She would have to make use of her other senses.

So, she did.

She listened, for the sound of footsteps.

She opened her mouth, for the taste of him.

She felt for vibrations in the floor.

And, she smelt-

Burnt hair.

(there)

She spun around behind her and fired a lance of flame.

There was nothing there.

Then the hand seized her by the hair and pulled her back, a guttural grunt escaping her throat as her hand flew to her hair.

Darkness once again fell completely over the cave.

Quickly and deftly, Karst twisted the scythe in her hand and swung it behind her.

Gurk.

She felt the fine spray of blood hit her bare arms.

The hand dropped from her hair, and she twisted free, pulling her scythe with her and taking a pleasure in the sound it made as it came out.

Darkness still lay heavy over the cave… but now, she heard the steady drip… drip… drip… of blood hitting the stone.

Giving away his location.

She felt the fire start to gather to him, and frantically listened. Listened to the pulse of the earth.

Mayhap it was Felix's presence in her life that allowed her then to communicate with the earth. It almost felt as if Felix was right there with her, hand in hers as he showed her what the earth felt, how to interpret the messages it sent through psynergy. And now, she felt the ripples of his footsteps as if the stone was a pond. She followed him in the darkness, sensing him.

And now, she knew, she was right beside him.

Felix's closeness in her life allowed her to feel the earth and now, she called upon her memories of her childhood friend, as she extended one hand and was not surprised when it pressed firmly against Baelfael's back.

Rising Dragon, she whispered.

The fire burst to life around Baelfael, and he looked back at her in shock. "How did you-"

And then the dragon burst from the ground and carried him far to the ceiling, jaw of flames gaping wide, and smashed him into and through the stone.

Smiling ferally, Karst took careful, measured steps, stood in the shaft of brightening light that fell from the hole above, and then leapt up through the hole.

Felix saw the dragon of fire erupt from the mountainside, and climbed faster.

Baelfael flew up and then slowly, with a kind of unconscious grace, fell back to the ground.

She set her scythe behind her, and went in for the kill.

Baelfael stood shakily, a little dazed and surprised. Immortal or not, he still felt pain… and a curious reluctance to unleash all his power on this mortal, fighting so furiously for the man she loved. Not even for his life, just his honour. How much more greatly would she fight against his killer?

He had the ability to destroy her, of this he had no doubt. But some part of him was unable to co-operate… for a moment, he wondered. Did some part of him desire this punishment? Did some aspect of his persona believe what he was doing for Moira was wrong?

He gritted his teeth. Impossible.

With a perfectly-aimed fireball, he shot the scythe out of Karst's hand.

She ran on anyway, both fists aiming for his stomach.

They locked eyes for a moment, Karst's fists caught firmly in Baelfael's hands. Somewhere up above, it began to rain. Clouds had gathered in the sky above and suddenly, the heavens opened and a deluge poured down.

The fire in Karst's eyes cooled for a moment, and for the first time in a long while, she spoke.

"Did you really love her so much?"

Baelfael's face was ashen, grief, and loneliness, warring in his eyes.

"More than the world."

There was a pause and then, suddenly as it began, the rain stopped. They stared at each other through curtains of hanging, sopping hair, water dripping plink… plink… plink… from the bangs and onto the wet rock beneath them.

Then, a great red fire growing before Bael, as Karst's hair instantly dried and wavered in the heat as the immense fireball formed in her fists.

Fiery Blast, she mouthed, and the force of the blow flung Baelfael off the edge of the cliff and high into the air.

She made as if to go after him, but before she could-

Twin swords of psynergy pierced Baelfael at the shoulders, pinning him to the fabric of reality itself. And then, before her disbelieving eyes, Felix leapt from the mountain below, a great shimmering sword of psynergy forming around him…

(Odyssey)

Acheron cleft the air, empowered with all the psynergetic force that Venus could muster.

Baelfael summoned a wall of raw force as quickly as he could, but the blast along sent him plummeting down into the crevasse between the mountains, falling into darkness.

Felix allowed his momentum to carry him to the mountain, his psynergy softening the earth for his landing. Dust rose in a cloud as he bodily hit the ground, bending his knees to brace against the impact, then he raised his head, black hair long and straggly.

He turned to Karst, and sheathed his sword. He put a hand over his heart and bowed.

(this is your fight)

Then rising, he smiled, and blew her a kiss.

Karst couldn't help but smile in return. Dork.

She retrieved her scythe and, leaping into the air, leapt down after Baelfael.

He was in pain. It felt like countless bones in his body were broken, the earth jagged and biting into his body. And like an uncomfortable lump, it poked into his back… and the Tomegathericon, safely in his pocket.

He raised his eyes and stared at the sky through the crevasse, and saw her.

She bounced from wall to wall, quickly descending on him like the reaper's blade.

He saw her coming, and half-heartedly fired a few fireballs.

She dodged them effortlessly, and then came the gleaming scythe.

He closed his eyes.

She swung.

(sni-thuck-crack)

It struck with a meaty thud, biting through flesh and bone, then the stone beneath.

He suddenly couldn't feel his right arm.

Because suddenly, it was gone.

Karst raised her bloodslicked scythe and stared down at Baelfael.

He would not die here.

It was time.

With his left hand, he reached behind his back to what was strapped there, and in an instant, had drawn forth the pistol and shot Karst once.

The last thing she saw as she turned and fell was Felix, screaming, running down the mountainside toward her.


	5. These Walls

add this after any youtube link

/watch?v=MzovR0s7EbI&fmt=18

**~Any way the wind blows~**

Baelfael staggered through the steel halls of the arc~en~ciel, his one hand clutched to the stump of his right arm in pain. It was long cauterized with a brief burst of flame psynergy, but it was still extremely painful.

The Tomegathericon, which he had fought so hard to gain, rested easily in his pocket. Its weight was a comfort to him as he leaned his head against the steel wall, its cool touch a balm to the fire that still raged inside him. His nanotattoos would burn for a while longer, before he was able to regain his composed self.

He pushed himself off the wall, swayed where he stood, and then stumbled off through the hall.

He came to the door to his room and leaned against the wall beside it. His hand came up and quickly, by memory, punched in the sixteen-digit code that was the key to his room. The doors moved open with a sssh, and he staggered inside.

His room was total chaos, books open on the floor, papers and research materials cluttering his tables, his bed buried under a mound of what Behemos would call "Baelfael's nerd crapjunk".

But none of that was of interest to him at the moment.

The fatigue seemed to vanish from his feet and his body as he grew closer to his goal, the Tomegathericon seeming to burn in his pocket, waiting to be used.

He walked to his shelf full of old artefacts, things which continually gave him fascination. Things of the old ones that went by childish, entertaining names like "Playstation 2", "Compact Disc", "DVD", and other such fancies. It was a hobby of his, one that Behemos found quite appealing, for once. The Elemental Knight of Ice seemed to enjoy himself with 'games' like "Grand Theft Auto", and bands like "Motorhead", Baelfael thought, with a wistful smile.

He reached for one of the DVDs, one entitled Highlander in the script of the ancients. He pulled it off the shelf, and reached behind it, thumbed aside a plate on the wall behind, and pressed a button.

The wall to the right of his shelf split apart, and Baelfael stepped through, the door closing softly behind him.

Felix, tears burning hot and angry from his eyes, wrapped one arm under Karst's shoulders and one around her legs, and lifted her limp body into to the air. Her head lolled to the side and, crying, but blazing with anger inside, Felix turned and marched back at Vale.

To Baelfael.

Baelfael stepped into his lab, eager to begin. He knew that in the centre of the room, suspended by a mass of wires, and braced in her winglike cradle, the homunculus of Moira rested, eager to be given its life.

He turned and flicked on the lights.

When he turned around, he immediately registered Behemos, Ashtarth, and Regulus standing around the homunculus.

Behemos had his gun-arm pressed to her head.

"This madness ends now, Baelfael," Behemos said coldly.

"Behemos, NO-"

The shot was deafening, as the charged shot of ice energy ripped through her head and through the circuits, wiring and glittering metal flying out the other side. Those eyes, which had begun to show the beginnings of human affection beneath their lit orbs, fizzled and went out, as she fell limp in her cradle.

As he took a disbelieving step forward to save her, Behemos kicked down the robot, and levelling his gun, blew her to pieces.

Shrapnel flew all around the room with the resonation of the sound, and Baelfael let out a wordless scream. He rushed forward in pure rage, hand reflexively clenching and unclenching-

Behemos hauled back and punched him in the jaw.

Baelfael rocked back, dazed, and spat up blood and a tooth on the sterile lab floor.

"What the fuck where you thinking, Baelfael?" Behemos demanded. "What the fucking shit where you thinking? Do you think Moira would want this? You spending all your days and nights slaving over a fucking doll? Does it make you feel better to think you could've brought her back to life, and you would've been fucking happily-ever-after again?" Behemos snarled, and looming, stepped up to Baelfael, his considerable bulk dwarfing the smaller scientist. "It explains what you've been wasting all your time with, shut up in your lab here. Regulus here told me you attacked that Felix guy and tried to steal the book of fucking death. Were you planning to forcibly drag her soul back from the afterlife and trap her in a goddamned robot?"

"I… I just wanted to s-see her again, so badly. Every day I don't see her is not worth living," he choked.

Behemos growled. "Don't make me punch you again, Bael. I thought you were better than this, man, not some immature child who just tries to get what he wants. That's life, Baelfael, people die. We live and try to move on and party all the harder for the people who are gone. Do you think Moira's happy with you, watching this and seeing you waste your life away? Becoming, bit by fucking bit, like the very robot you tried to turn her into? You know what real people do, Baelfael? They mourn, but they get over it. Don't you think you should try doing a bit of that, instead of trying to trap my sister's soul in a fucking ro-"

Ashtarth's hand fell, cool and soothing, on Behemos shoulder.

Regulus stood by, a troubled expression marring his face.

"Behemos," Ashtarth said gently. "Leave him be. I think he understands."

Behemos slowly turned and looked down at Baelfael and saw that indeed, tears were coursing down his face.

Good. Maybe he finally gets it… maybe he'll finally be able to accept Moira's gone, Behemos thought angrily. Fucking idiot.

"I do mourn," Baelfael said, his voice composed despite his tears. "I mourn every day."

He pulled free of Behemos grip and walked with shaky, unmeasured steps, over to the wall. He passed his one hand over the wall, and one of the panels glowed.

"Baelfael, what happened to your arm?" Ashtarth began.

"It's not important," Baelfael said. "There is something I must show you."

The walls slid open, revealing a hidden antechamber.

It was a simple room, a mere hall really, coloured in warm, soothing tones of blue, an ocean scene – Behemos recognized Aquanet – painted on the walls.

And in holders, on every inch of the wall, were candles. Some old and already-burned, some yet untouched.

Behemos began to understand.

Baelfael turned back to them, tears still streaming down his face.

"One every year, on her birthday, in memory of her. She made me promise."

"I'll never forget

(her)

"ever."

**~Any way the wind blows~**

"BAELFAEL!"

It was the cry of a man in grief.

The voice echoed through the halls of the arc-en-ciel as Felix stood at the entrance, holding Karst's limp body in his hands. The others stood far behind him, looking on in amazed disbelief and in many expressions, anger.

Jenna tried to shush Sorutas, the baby screaming in his aunt's arms. All the while, Garnet buried her face in her skirts, crying her heart out. She heard the commotion and came out, and no one could send her back. Now she just cried, again and again.

"Mommy! Moooommy!"

"Baelfael, come out, you bastard! Come out and heal her!"

Felix carried Karst in his arms. She was still breathing, not yet dead, but her pulse fluttering and weak. They had tried to heal the strange hole in her stomach but moments after they did, it would simply break open again. She was fading, her eyes fluttering, and her temperature hot. Every so often she would leap in his arms, thinking she was still fighting, and he would have to restrain her.

"COME OUT!"

There was total silence in the field, broken only by Felix's periodical shouts, and Garnet's sobbing.

Agatio, too, stood like a stature, tears welling in his eyes for his childhood friend.

And then… like a ghost, Baelfael appeared in the doorway.

"Stop." He said, to the psynergies which were already charging. He held up both hands – one hand normal, human, the other hand a gleaming, metallic and multi-plated creation, unnatural and foreign steel glinting there. Perhaps it was the shock of this, more than his words, which faltered their psynergies.

"I have done you all a great injustice," Baelfael began. "Words cannot express the depth of my sorrow, which ultimately that led me to my madness. Words cannot express, and words are meaningless in the end. So instead, Felix," he said, and turned and walked into the depths of the ship. His voice emerged from the depths. "Follow me. Bring your worthy warrior of fire."

Felix, eyes dull and sluggish, trudged up the ramp inside. He wasn't sure of Baelfael's intentions, if he was to be killed himself, but he had no other choice.

He laid Karst out on the table as Baelfael instructed, and looked with amazement around the lab of the Knight of Fire. It seemed a strange, foreign place, full of metals and strange, polished surfaces. It reminded him of some of the ruins he had seen, but this place was new, and vivid. And on the floor, the fragments of something blue and fleshed-coloured lay.

Felix did not want to know.

Baelfael would not look him in the eye, but rather bustled around, quickly pulling out strange artefacts from the closets on the wall. He pulled out a strange machine and placed a strange, translucent hood over her mouth, and flicked a switch.

"Anaesthesia," he said to Felix's cautious glance, "it will put her to sleep, so she will not feel any pain."

"Like psynergy," he said suspiciously.

Baelfael turned aside and reached for something else. "Yes. Like psynergy."

He pulled out a small object, with a flat black screen on it. Felix looked at it, and Baelfael paid him no heed. He swept the object over her stomach, over the hole, and satisfied, put it down.

"What's wrong with her?" Felix said, torn between fury at the person who hurt her, and anxiety towards the person who could maybe help.

The irony was not lost on him.

"The bullet is still buried in her body," he murmured.

The word 'bullet' was lost on Felix, but he understood that like a sword fragment, whatever hurt her still remained in her body and resisted all attempts to heal. He should have recognized it.

In the old days, such wounds were usually fatal.

Baelfael strapped on a pair of strange, tight gloves, and put a white mask over his mouth. He picked up a pair of strange steel things, almost like a pair of Xianese chopsticks, and something that looked like tongs. And then there was something else, that seemed different, and the other two objects seemed to be drawn to it. And yet another that he had no explanation for

(metal disintegrator)

it was so strange.

"Hold her hand," Baelfael said, his voice muffled. "It will make it easier for both of you."

He raised the tonglike things, and pried open the wound in Karst's toned, muscular stomach.

The operation was over in mere minutes. Felix was surprised, as Baelfael laid aside a pile of strange metal dust.

"That's what was hurting her?" he asked incredulously.

"Fired at a speed of several hundred miles per hour, yes," he said, distracted, as he reached to bind the wound shut. Felix's hand stopped him, and as Baelfael turned, he saw a strange mixture of anger, and gratitude in his eyes.

"Allow me."

He took off his glove, and laid his bare hand on Karst's stomach. The gesture was so intimate, so personal, that Baelfael felt embarrassed even to see.

A warm glow surrounded Felix's hand – he no longer carried the Tomegathericon – and the power of Potent Cure knit the wound together.

Baelfael reached over and switched off his strange creation, and took the mask off Karst's face.

Immediately she stirred, and Felix felt his hand on hers tighten.

Baelfael gave a sigh of relief, and suddenly, smiled. The expression seemed to wipe away shadows from his eyes, which did not return. "She will recover quickly. She is strong."

"She is," Felix said, and if Karst had seen the expression he wore, she would have teased him mercilessly

(but inwardly be touched).

Felix took a deep breath, and turned to Baelfael, finally meeting his eyes.

"I do not know what madness took you… but for a moment, when I thought I would lose her, I felt a sense of madness. I believe I understand what you felt… at least in some small amount."

Baelfael looked out in incomprehension at the hand that Felix held out.

"You have saved her… and from what I have seen, you are a great warrior. Where I come from,

(Prox)

when all wrongs are redressed, no blame is to be given."

Slowly, Baelfael took his hand – and shook it.


	6. Who Wants to Live Forever

add this after a link to youtube

/watch?v=I_Qe6yDz1HI&fmt=18

**~Any way the wind blows~**

Ashtarth and Sheba stood together at the last, no words between them for the time being. They stood on the peak of Mount Aleph together, and all the winds of the world swirled around them, Weyard spread out beneath. The clouds overhead drifted lazily, bathed in the full sunlight of the world.

They stood together, and embraced. For long minutes they held their silence, but it was a pregnant silence. They knew there was something to be said, but neither truly wanted to… yet.

(let me have this moment)

Finally, Sheba spoke.

"When I die," she said, her voice uncertain, and shaky. The idea of her eventual death never seemed more real or fearful to her as now, when she thought of Ashtarth living without her. "You won't become like Baelfael, will you?"

Felix, silently perceptive as always, had filled them in with what he thought had happened, and Ashtarth had confirmed it.

Ashtarth pulled back and looked at her gravely for a moment, flame-coloured eyes solemn, emerald eyes anxious.

"I cannot deny the sadness and grief I will feel," he began. "But I will not fall to insanity. Otherwise, how would I clearly remember our life together, and look back and smile?" bowing his head, he kissed her, breath flowing freely between their lips. "But let us not talk of such things now. We still have many years of life ahead of us… perhaps longer than you know, Sheba," he said, smiling.

(kshar'wa)

(apprentice)

"So… you still want to be with me, despite the fact I will someday die? And you'll be left all alone?"

"I know you'll always be with me," Ashtarth said tenderly. "There will never be another."

Sheba looked at him long and hard for a moment, her long blonde hair blowing gently in the wind. A wind that caressed them gently, lovingly.

"No," she said decisively.

"No?" Ashtarth said, surprised.

"No, you aren't allowed to live the rest of your life as a celibate after I'm gone," she said slyly, running a finger along Ashtarth's lips. "That wouldn't be fair, would it? And I don't want you to become like Baelfael… I want you to live life more fully after… because you'll be living life for me, too."

Ashtarth said nothing, but hugged her tightly with his arm around her waist. His eyes turned down to the Vale below, where small figures milled before the arc~en~ciel. "I think… Baelfael himself has begun to realize that, now," he said slowly.

"Good," Sheba said, wrapping her slender arms around his neck. "Now I have reassurance that you won't turn out that crazy, not permanently, at least."

"You doubted my word?" Ashtarth said, affronted.

Sheba smiled mysteriously. "Well, I have other means of confirming your promise, anyway."

(prediction)

Ashtarth did not understand, but Sheba seemed to be content… and so he simply hugged her all the more tightly, kissing the top of her silky head gently.

They embraced like that, peacefully.

Then Sheba spoke up once more.

"Ashy… you came here in one of those field-travellers, right? Like that ship?" she said, nodding down to Vale.

He nodded. "Correct. It was damaged in the landing, however."

"Could Baelfael repair it?"

Ashtarth considered. "He most likely could. Why?"

"I was just wondering," Sheba began, and she seemed unusually serious. More so than he had ever seen her. "Could it… reach the moon?"

"Easily," he assured her.

"Can you take me there someday? There is something… I have to do."

He kissed her lips.

"Sheba, I will show you the stars."

She smiled, and kissed him back.

**~Any way the wind blows~**

Zhael helped Shiro up the stairs of the makeshift stage they had hauled out of the cargo hold of the ciel. They it was a spontaneous decision, surprising, coming from Baelfael. It had been a long, long time since he had put forth an idea like this… since Moira's death, if she remembered rightly.

She smiled. Good. He was coming back to normal…

And now she and Shiro now had some idea of what to expect… and though she didn't know it, like Ashtarth, she vowed never to let her become so stricken as to be driven to the edge like that. When the time came… it would be any day now, she knew.

As if reading her thoughts, Shiro tapped her arm, and she stopped almost instantly. He leaned in and she breathed in the scent of him, so familiar, and heard his voice, still much the same as it was years and years ago.

And he whispered,

"Zhael… I don't think we have time to return home. But what the hell… it's okay. Look at this place."

She did. She saw the village, gaily set with banners and wedding decorations, full of the sound of laughter and life. She felt the wind, sweet with the smell of honeysuckle and other plants she had no words for. She saw the sky, a deeper blue than any she had ever seen… and she turned back and saw the arc~en~ciel, resting in a vast field of softly waving grain… and all around them, the mountains, outlined crystal clear against the sky.

"You want to… die here?"

It was the first time she could actually bring herself to say those words.

Shiro nodded, and taking her hand, squeezed tightly with his much strength as he could muster.

She squeezed back just as tight, careful not to hurt him.

"Let's go," he said, and together they climbed up onto the stage.

Molok was waiting there for them. They stopped short before him for a moment, as he stared at them long and hard.

He clapped a hand lightly on Shiro's shoulder, and the Bomberman looked back steadily. Mutual respect was evident between them. Then Molok nodded… and Shiro nodded back.

Without another word, Molok handed Shiro his guitar, and stepped aside from Zhael to make her way to her keyboard, and walked past them.

"What was that about?" Zhael whispered.

Shiro looked up thoughtfully at the sky as he put the guitar strap around his frail body, strumming the strings to ensure they were all in tune. "I think… that was Molok's way of saying a lot of things. That I know have an inkling of what life is like for him. That he's jealous of me for being able to die. And that, lastly… he, too… sees and understands Baelfael. That he recognizes there is a life after."

Zhael smiled softly as she sat down at her keyboard. "Good." She waved her hand, and a currently of energy passed through all their instruments. "Are we ready?"

They both glanced over at the one already on the stage. Baelfael, sitting silent behind the drumset. He was simply staring at it, as if it was something horrifying to him…

It was something, they knew, that he used to do with Moira and Behemos all the time. Back when they all were a lot younger.

But this one was for Moira.

Baelfael looked at them, and nodded silently.

Standing up, the Knight of Fire turned and looked down from the stage and at the Valeans and Knights arrayed around them. He saw Behemos flash a thumbs up, Zoniha grab Regulus' hand, and just in front, Karst, leaning back into Felix's chest. Her eyes met his, and in both, there was no fire now. She nodded silently, respectfully, and Baelfael cleared his throat.

"I apologize for all the trouble we – I – have caused you… and it may not be much, but please, try to listen. It may seem like magic… but it's not, really. Please listen, and perhaps, you may understand, if just a little."

He knew Ashtarth and Sheba were up there, watching, the wind carrying the sounds to them perfectly.

"Listen to our song."

Baelfael sat down at the drums, and picked up his sticks, one held in a human hand, one in one made of steel. He glanced at Shiro and Zhael.

Zhael closed her eyes, and her fingers danced across the keys.

Then Baelfael's voice, clear, sang into the silence and then, after a pause, Shiro's voice, and then Zhael's, weaving in and harmonizing with theirs. And somewhere during the song, the deep bass of Molok joined in, and Regulus, and Zoniha. Wishing Rukifellth and Lilith were there with him… this was a song that would have no violin. Not this time.

And carried on the winds, Ashtarth's voice.

Their song.

Baelfael played with all his heart, all his soul, decades of hurt and grief poured out at once. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he sang into the air, his drums pounding with the beat of his heart and it seemed to him, he felt the cool, light touch, of fingers across his neck.


End file.
